


Would it Be a Sin?

by juiceboxjellyfish



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Normal AU, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Questioning, Self-Hatred, also it's kind of, but not really, depending on interpretation and such, homophobic parent, it all depends on personal experience so, okay so this one is for the angst prompt and it is very painful to me but it might not be to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juiceboxjellyfish/pseuds/juiceboxjellyfish
Summary: A Normal AU in which Baz struggles a lot with the realisation that he has feelings for Simon.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	Would it Be a Sin?

BAZ

When it came it felt like it came suddenly, but in retrospect it had been building up for ages. Months. Years, maybe. Possibly as long as I’d known him – possibly longer. But it certainly felt like it started with him. And who could blame me? Had you seen him, you would’ve fallen for him too. He was so much, so bright, so loud, so overwhelming. I orbited him like he was a sun long before I knew why, long before I was aware I was doing it. 

We were alone then. Spring was approaching rapidly, streams overflowing with melted snow, once buried things peaking out of the dirty remains of what was at one point a blindingly perfect blanket of snow. He took me down to the lake to watch the ice as it broke. Excited as we were about the changing of the seasons, we neglected our winter coats and scarves for our thrillingly thin denim jackets. We ran the whole way and only realised once our heartbeats had slowed that it wasn’t nearly warm enough for our chosen attire. We huddled together on the jetty and listened to the singing of the breaking ice. The cold nipped at our faces and our gloveless fingers and he grabbed my hand, seeking any trace of warmth. He was just as cold as I was, but the touch sent a spark up my arm and warmed me from the inside out. 

We didn't let go until we reached his front door. Not a word was spoken about it, but I felt like my palm was buzzing with electricity for half an hour afterwards.

I dreamt about him that night, about his hand in mine on a pier that stretched for miles and miles under and endless sky, perfectly reflected in an equally endless lake. He tore his eyes from the view to smile at me, and I woke up to a horrible realisation. 

There was a word. A phrase. I knew it and I knew it was true, but I couldn’t bring myself to think it, not intentionally. It was there, it was all I could think about, but even in those thoughts I tiptoed around it, carefully avoiding the words. If I said the words it would be real. I couldn’t let it be real. 

The next time he touched me, there was no spark. His touch was burning. Scorching. His finger brushed against mine and I pulled away like I’d placed my hand directly on a hot stove, waves of shame and guilt crashing over me. His face fell as he pulled his hand back and my heart fell with it. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I wanted nothing bad for him. He was my sun. But what is a sun but a glorified fire? A sun will blind you if you stare at it long enough, burn you if you dare to get close. Have we not told the tale of Icarus for centuries? Did the sun mourn Icarus when he fell? Did it reach for his molten wings, watching them vaporise in its presence? I couldn’t stand it. He still felt the same. He was still the sun, still so much, so bright, so loud. So overwhelming. He was the same, but I wasn’t. It hurt to look at him, because it made it all too real. 

I knew. I wanted nothing more than to return to the blissful ignorance I had previously been living in, but I knew. I knew so certainly, and yet I refused to say it, to even think it. But I still dreamt about him. And slowly but surely, he slipped into my daydreams. They were intrusive and guilt-ridden, but in the rare moments when I let go of reality and allowed myself to just dream, the thought of him filled my chest with sunshine. It would have been so lovely if it was someone else. 

It’s so hard to distract yourself when you’re alone in the middle of a dark, silent room. The thing about thoughts is that when you try not to think about them, you just make yourself think about them more. It was under these circumstances that the thought I’d been trying so hard to keep away finally snuck into my brain.

_“I’m in love with Simon.”_

It was sort of cathartic, allowing myself to think it at last. I hated it, but it was a catharsis. Despite the fact that I already knew, the sentence was a spear through my heart, a bucket of ice water over my head. I cried until I was too empty and exhausted to stay awake. 

I woke up to a new world. It was exactly the same as the old world in every way, but now it was real, which meant I’d have to deal with it at some point. 

Despite my acknowledgement of my feelings for Simon, a boy, there was another sentence I had yet to form. I knew that one too. They went together, but the second one was somehow scarier. That was the one I’d have to use when I at some point dealt with the problem, and it was terrifying. So taboo, too deeply forbidden to be spoken. Too forbidden to be thought.

But I knew. 

I was the only one who did, but it felt like it was visible. Like everyone who looked at me knew somehow, like I was just moments away from saying or doing something that confirmed it. And what then? 

Would they be as appalled as I was? Would they hate me like I hated myself?

If Simon found out, would he ever speak to me again?

My father would disown me. He claimed his love was unconditional, but I doubted he would’ve made that claim if he’d known the conditions. I knew his views far too well. They echoed through my head at night, making their way into my nightmares. The mirror yelled them back at me when I was alone in the bathroom. I’d never agreed with them, but every homophobic word he spoke stuck to me, etched itself into my brain. His love, despite what he might claim, was entirely conditional, and the conditions would change. 

___________________________________

I walk to the lake alone. The ice is breaking again and in spite of all the pain it brought, I want to relive that day so many months ago when just for a moment, my feelings for Simon weren’t plagued by guilt. The dirt path is covered in muddy slush and as I trudge through it, I thank myself for choosing to wear sensible boots and a winter coat. I haven’t been to the jetty since that day, even though Simon and I used to bathe from it every summer (I couldn’t stand the thought of bathing with him once I’d realised. The appearance of his face and hands in my daydreams brought enough guilt on their own) but the path is ingrained in my mind.

As I reach the jetty, I am no longer alone. A figure sits at the end of it, dangling his legs over the edge. The sun isn’t setting yet, but it’s low enough to create a halo of light around his silhouette. I hesitate for a moment. I don’t know why. I saw him earlier this week, and everything was as normal as it ever gets between us then. Carefully, as not to startle him, I make my way over to him. He turns around when I step onto the planks of the jetty and grins at me, filling my chest with that wonderful, terrible light. That smile is as staggering as a free fall – it always makes me feel like I’ve somehow left my stomach behind. 

“You’re shaking”, I exclaim as soon as I notice it. 

“Shouldn’t have gone for the denim jacket”, he states, still grinning. 

“Here, take my coat.”

“Won’t you freeze?”

I sit down next to him, letting my hand brush his. It’s colder than mine, but it burns like his touch always does.

“I’ll be okay”, I say, finally smiling back. “Hey Simon? I have something to tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo okay time to repack all the stuff I had to unpack to write that
> 
> Like I said in the tags some people might not find this angsty but it is to me and it might be to people who have similar experiences to me. I did feel like I had to give it a hopeful ending though 'cause it was upsetting to write!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed it, I would love to see if it resonated with anyone!


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